DEDUCTIONS IN MAGIC
by FizzingWhizbangs
Summary: The Dursleys are killed in a fire, Harry is adopted by Sherlock and John. (Non-Slash)This is my first fanfic so please be kind. (On hiatus)
1. Chapter 1

When Sherlock decided to crash John's romantic evening with Mary by impersonating his waiter to announce his return from the dead, he did not expect to be punched in the face. Twice. The two men currently sat at a table across from each other, in a kebab shop after having been thrown out of the restaurant.

"So you're alive," John said with an undercurrent of anger.

"Yes." Sherlock intoned.

" Two years, Sherlock! Two years and not a single word. I thought you were dead!" he exclaimed

" I know. You were meant to." Sherlock replied matter of factly.

"Did it not even occur to you I might have been affected by it? I mourned you for two years! I even went back to my bloody therapist that you and Mycroft told me I needed to fire!"

Sherlock remained silent.

"Mrs Hudson was distraught. She's even refused to take new tenants for the flat. Its still sitting there."

"Am I supposed to say something?" Sherlock said nonchalantly.

"Yes. Apologise, like any other normal human being! " John exclaimed.

"For what? I've never been what you term normal. By the way that moustache really doesn't suit you." He turned to Mary who was sat beside John. " How do you stand that thing, I can't believe you let him keep it. "

For the third time that night Sherlock found himself staring at John Watson's oncoming fist.

Meanwhile at Number 4 privet drive, a dark cloaked figure with their hands curled round a thin wooden sick walked across the Dursleys perfectly manicured lawn. He waved the wand in a circular motion, pointing at the house. A stream of bright red flames forming the shape of a dragon erupted from it. Within seconds the house before him was engulfed in the flames. He stood there watching for a few seconds, as if having decided he'd seen enough he turned and disappeared with a faint popping noise. By the time the fire brigade had arrived nothing remained of the house except the bottom part of the stairs and the cupboard beneath it.

In the London Metropolitan Police office, inspector detective Lestrade's phone rang.

"A suspected arson?" he paused "Right."

He put down the phone and picked up his mobile.

Back in the kebab shop Sherlock's phone began vibrating.

"Are you going to pick that up? It's Lestrade." John paused to reflect on the statement's significance. "Wait a moment how the hell does he know you're back! Just how long have you been back? On second thought don't tell me"

Sherlock got up from the floor, where he had ended up after having been punched squarely in the face. He snatched the phone from a still exasperated John's grasp.

"Hello? No, I'm not coming just for a mundane house fire. No, I refuse." There was a moment of silence "I'll be over in an hour"

Sherlock turned to John. " Case. I'm leaving" and walked out briskly.

Arriving at Number 4 Privet Drive he approached the police cordon and was greeted by Sally Donovan, that was if you could call it a greeting,

" Hi Freak." She said

"Still scrubbing Anderson's floors, I see" Sherlock retorted. She shot him an angry look. Sherlock crossed the police tape and made his way to where Lestrade stood in front of the only remaining standing structure of the house.

"Here it is, no one's tried opening it the fire department recons there might be something dangerous in it since it's the only thing standing after that fire." He proclaimed.

"Open it," Sherlock said.

"What?" Lestrade was staring at him in confusion.

"Open it, there's nothing dangerous inside."

"It's locked!"

"Well then get a lock cutter and cut it." Sherlock said condescendingly.

Lestrade gestured to one of the policemen standing in the vicinity.

"Oh and you might want to call social services."

"Why would I need social services?" questioned Lestrade.

At that precise moment there was a snapping noise behind them, the heavy padlock fell to the charred ground. An apprehensive officer gingerly opened the cupboard door and turned to Lestrade with a worried look.

"Sir, you may want to have a look at this."

"Jesus."

Illuminated by the dim torchlight of the officer's torch there was the figure of a small child huddled up in the furthest corner, staring at the men with terrified green eyes.

"See." Sherlock said somewhat smugly.

Lestrade shot him a glare and shouted "I need blankets over here!" He crawled into the space, putting his jacket over the shoulders of the shell-shocked child. "And someone call social services!"


	2. Chapter 2

For Harry Potter it was just another ordinary miserable day. It was late evening and after dinner he was once again locked in his cupboard under the stairs. His entire afternoon had been spent under the blazing sun, mowing the front lawn. Aunt Petunia had told him he'd better be quick about it unless the neighbours noticed him. Harry had often wondered why the Dursleys hated him so much calling him 'Freak' or simply 'Boy'. He supposed odd things did seem to happen around him. There was the time when his hair had spontaneously grown back after Aunt Petunia loss patience with its constantly messy state and cut it or when he had found himself on the school roof when Dudley and his gang were chasing him. These were to name but a few.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Aunt Petunia yelling through the door, "Vernon! There's a man outside!"

"Where?" came Uncle Vernon's puzzled reply as he went to the window she pointed at "I can't see him!"

"He's there,in the middle of the garden!" pointed Dudley, who had been persuaded from the sofa by his curiosity . "What's he waving mum? Why is light coming out of it? "

The next thing Harry heard was his relative's panicked yells and a scorching heat that seemed to travel through the wooden doors of his cupboard. He scrambled to the corner, curling himself up in the hopes of getting away from the wave of hot air that travelled through the enclosed space. He shut his eyes and put his hands over his ears to block out the sounds around him. He stayed in this position for what seemed like hours. Eventually the blaring sirens of fire engines and police cars filtered in, but even then he made no effort to move.

Suddenly he heard the faint clank. A bright yellowish light flooded in. Eyes still temporarily blinded by the light, he felt something being placed over his shoulder and a reassuring voice saying "You're safe now son, you're safe".

He could feel a pair of hands under his arms, as he was lifted gently into the arms of the figure. He heard a second voice coming from further back. "He doesn't seem to be hurt in any way, Could I…"

The first voice said angrily "The kid's still in shock for god's sake! You want to question him now!" Harry stiffened involuntarily at the sound of the raised tone of voice. The man noticing his sudden distress switched his attention back to Harry, saying "You're all right now." and began rubbing circles on his back. It felt nice, comforting. As the figure continued to do this, Harry soon gave in to his exhaustion and found himself drifting off to sleep.

Both men having made their way back to the brigade of emergency vehicles outside the police cordon, Lestrade handed the now sleeping child to a member of the emergency services. Turning to Sherlock he asked:

"Anyway, how on earth did you know there was a kid in there?"

"Six months ago there was a case of suspected child abuse committed by the owner of a drill manufacturing company in Surry. The receptionist reported it, she had gone to the owner's house to give him some documents. Leaving aside that she was probably involved in an extra-marital affair with man, she noticed a small child who appeared weeding the garden with a shovel that looked far too heavy for a child his age. A few weeks later when the receptionist was called to give evidence she said it had been a 'misunderstanding'. Seeing as social service didn't have enough evidence for consistent abusive acts and the prosecution's case seemed to rest almost entirely on her evidence, the man and his family were found not guilty. Evidently she had been 'discouraged' from giving evidence against her employer. "

" That still doesn't explain how you knew that was this house."

"We are in Surry relatively close to where the company's registered office is. The name of the company was in one of the tabloids. It wasn't difficult to track the case to a man named Vernon Dursley, who incidentally lives at Number 4 Privet Drive. Also someone who would interfere in judicial proceedings is not above making a few backroom business deals. They're bound to get in above their heads at some point and attract the type of person inclined to acts of violence. The house behind me is burnt to the ground. Oh and that boy flinched when you shouted at me. Classic sign of abuse, raised voices are often associated with some type of pain often physical."

Lestrade was silent for a moment, eyebrows raised. Sherlock's deductive rants always left you feeling simultaneously awestruck and stupid, the latter emotion usually directed at yourself. Though the detective would never openly admit it, he did miss it just a tiny bit.

"Well at least the kid didn't take one look at you and start screaming." he quipped.

An officer approached Lestrade.

"Sir, we might have a problem. We phoned social services but they said it's too late at night they haven't got anyone on duty they can send out."

Lestrade cursed.

"Dammit, someone needs to go the hospital with the kid. I can't go, need to go sort out all the paperwork."

"That's fine I'll go" said Sherlock cherrily.

"What?!" exclaimed Lestrade.

* * *

Glad people are enjoying the story :) ) Also just a FYI there will be updates at least once a week. P.s is anyone interested in betaing my story?


	3. Chapter 3

John lay in bed awake. Tonight was meant to be the night he proposed to Mary, instead his best friend had returned from the dead. The last two years had not been easy. For the first week he had sunk into a depressive state barely leaving the flat at Baker Street. On day eight Mrs Hudson put her foot down, literally pulling him out the front door. She had packed him in a cab and sent him to his old therapist. To this day he still had no idea how she managed to find her contact details, he could only guess that Sherlock had rubbed off on her. A month later he had been persuaded to go back to his old job at the clinic. It wasn't long after that he meet Mary, who had been the receptionist there. It had started with chats in John's office when she brought him patient files, moved onto to lunchtime coffees and eventually dinner. Somewhere along the way she became his girlfriend and moved into his new apartment. 221B had been too much to bear. During the times he dwelt on Sherlock's death, she had patiently listened to him as he either vented about the Sherlock's idiocy for jumping or reminisced about the cases they had solved together. It was during one those times when John had realised how much she meant to him. Two weeks later he bought an engagement ring and arranged for dinner at a fancy restaurant.

The silence in room was broken by the sounds of his phone buzzing. 'well speak of the devil' he thought, there was only one person who would believe it socially acceptable to text someone at 3am in the morning. The message read, 'Come now. At Barts'. John put the phone down, still annoyed at Sherlock's manner of return and it's unfortunate timing. He was sure that the aggravating consulting detective had known precisely what he was interrupting. His phone buzzed again. 'In hospital. With Mrs Hudson. Come quick.' His eyes widened at the last text. In Sherlock's absence the two had become close friends, helping each other through their grief. Getting out of bed, he quickly got dressed, scrawled a note to Mary, hoping that she would understand and left the apartment.

Arriving at hospital he rushed to the information desk.

"Hi. Do you have patient here under the name of Martha Lousie Hudson?"

John waited impatiently as he heard the nurse's keyboard taps.

"I'm afraid not. Might she be admitted under a different name?"

"No, could you check again?"

"I'm sorry sir, it's still not coming up."

Just as he was contemplating on whether he should start searching the hospital wards one by one, he spotted Sherlock walking in from one of the side doors followed by Mrs Hudson who looked to be tired but in perfect health. John muttered a thank you to the nurse and stormed up to him.

"You told me Mrs Hudson was in hospital!" John shouted, earning him a disapproving stare from the nurses passing by.

"Well she is in hospital. " said Sherlock innocently, John glared at him.

"Dear, I'm perfectly healthy." she reassured him, turning to face Sherlock "I though I told you to stay upstairs." She said accusingly.

"Sorry?"

"I'm just going to nip to the cafeteria for a cup of hot chocolate for the poor lad." She turned around and walked in the direction of the hospital cafe.

"Lad?" John questioned, his anger at Sherlocks's incomprehension of social norms rapidly dissipating. After having lived with the man for an extended period of time this was the only way a person could stay sane.

"Ah yes, I picked up a stray at the crime scene."

"I'm assuming by stray you mean a child and Lestrade told you to call me and Mrs Hudson."

"He did say something about little girls and breadcrumbs, and also told me to tell you 'sorry for the early wake up call'."

John sighed. He couldn't fault Lestrade for not trusting Sherlock with the care of a child after that particular incident. Though it did make him wonder under what exact circumstances would he have entrusted the care of a child to him. As if reading the question from John's face Sherlock stated,

"I volunteered. Child services couldn't send anyone and Lestrade wasn't free."

John's eyebrows rose at that, the words volunteer and essentially babysitting were not two concepts anyone would associate with Sherlock Holmes. The only way that anything would peek the man's interest was something so completely bazaar that couldn't or shouldn't be possible.

"How or where did you find the boy?" asked John slightly suspiciously.

"Arson case, the only structure left standing after the fire was the wooden cupboard. Incidentally that is also where I found the boy." Sherlock said offhandedly.

"Wait. Wooden you said."

"Yes, I hope you haven't developed deafness in the last two years."

John glared at him.

"Sherlock, don't be mean and we really should head back up." said Mrs Hudson voice from behind them having returned with a steaming cardboard cup.

"We've probably left the boy alone for long enough" commented Sherlock.

"You left him alone!"

"He's sleeping, it's not as if he'll notice" retorted Sherlock.

"That's not the point! "

"I don't understand what's wrong with leaving an unconscious child alone."

"I give up." Said John exasperatedly.

From behind the two bickering men Mrs Hudson gave a fond smile.

0000000

Meanwhile in the wizarding world Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat slumped in his chair facing a concerned looking Minerva McGonagall.

"Is it true Albus? Are the Dursleys dead? Is Harry… dead?" the last word trailed off as if she did not want to say it aloud.

"Yes. The Dursleys residence was burnt to the ground by Fiendfyre"

"But what about the protection? It could have protected Harry could it not?" she asked with a hint of despiration.

"As strong as the protection of Lilly's sacrifice was, it was never absolute."The headmaster sat back in his chair looking every one of his 104 years."It seems I have once again failed Lilly and James" he said mournfully.

* * *

Author's Note: Apologies for the late chapter, I know I said i'll update every week. I may have overestimated myself a bit so i'm amending it to fortnightly posts. This was a bit of a filler chapter but I promise more action in the next one :) P.S posted this at 1am, hopefully there aren't too many errors...


	4. Chapter 4

Harry opened his eyes to find bright white florescent lighting above him; the air had a faint smell of disinfectant. However in spite of this he felt very comfortable. It was probably the softest bed he had ever slept in. For as long as he could remember the only thing he had ever known was a lumpy hard mattress and a thin throw that could hardly qualify as a blanket. He turned his head, seeing middle-aged woman with short ginger hair in the chair beside his bed reading a that he was awake she said in a kindly voice:

"How are you feeling?"

Harry looked at her uncertainly giving her a slight nod.

"I'll take that as a fine" she then reached to push a button on the wall beside his bed, saying reassuringly "Don't worry I'm just calling the nurses so they can make sure that you're alright."

Nurses, he thought, it must be the hospital then. Hospital. Memories of the earlier events in the evening came rushing back to him; the Dursely's screams, the scorching heat and the smell of burning. He involuntarily began to whimper.

"There, there" said the woman, putting a comforting arm around him, drawing him closer to her. For the second time that night he felt reassured. The sound of a familiar voice came floating in through the door. It was the man who had been shouted at earlier.

"Ah, Mrs Hudson. He's awake I take it. " He said in a business-like tone.

The woman swiftly cut him off "Sherlock, shoo. Leave the poor boy alone!"

"Why does everyone seem determined to think the worse of me? I'll wait outside then" he huffed,walking out the door, scowling at the nurse coming into the room.

"You do that and don't scare the poor hospital staff."

"Humf."

"Hello dear, this won't take long but I'll need to ask you a few questions and do a few simple tests to make sure you're ok." said the nurse, ignoring the exchange between the two.

"What's your name?" she asked.

Harry began to say his name but found his throat was too dry. Seeing this the nurse handed him a plastic cup "Have some water." After taking a sip he tried again.

"Harry, Harry Potter."

"How old are you?"

"Seven."

"Where do you live?"

"Number 4 Privet Drive."

"Who do you live with?"

" My Aunt, Uncle and Cousin."

"Your parents? "

"Aunt Petunia says they died in a car crash."

"Do you have any other relatives you know of? "

He shook his head.

"Ok Harry, I'm now going to do those tests I mentioned."

For the next ten minutes he was subjected to the usual temperature, blood pressure and oxygen checks. The nurse had pronounced Harry healthy but was slightly worried by his 'slightly low oxygen stats' and decided to keep him overnight just to 'make extra sure he would be alright'. At this point Mrs Hudson pronounced that this warranted a comforting hot beverage, telling him she would be right back with a cup of hot chocolate. The nurse remained but left soon after a continuous bleeping noise began, telling him that if he needed anything 'just press the green button to his left on the wall and someone will be right over'. Now that his room was once again empty, the fatigue began to set in and he drifted off to sleep.

ooooooo

Harry was suddenly jolted awake by a loud click and franticly looked about the darkened room. A hooded figure stood at the end of his bed pointing a long thin wooden stick at him.

"This is for the Dark Lord! Avada Kadevra!"

A bright green light shot straight at Harry, who instinctively curled into a ball in a desperate attempt to protect himself from the strange oncoming glow.

ooooooo

Just as Mrs Hudson, John and Sherlock reached the third floor there came a resounding bang, followed by heavy smoke coming from the left hand corridor. Both men ran towards the direction of the noise. Halfway down they spotted a door with smoke billowing out; Harry's room. John grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall nearby, entering the room while spraying it at the flames. As the smoke began to clear and the fire was put out, the sight that greeted them was one that would change their lives as they knew it. Harry curled into a ball and in front of him a wall of flickering ethereal blue light.


End file.
